


streetwise hercules

by bottomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Louis Tomlinson, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomlinsons/pseuds/bottomlinsons
Summary: “I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”Right.This is Harry’s part.(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)





	streetwise hercules

**Author's Note:**

> fic name is from the bonnie tyler classic 'I need a hero' because i couldn't think of anything else and that song is a bop 
> 
> warning: there is harry/omc flirting in this fic

◾

“Who the fuck is this?”

Harry lifts his head groggily from the pillow. There’s a heavy, sweaty arm draped over his back, which also startles at the sudden noise. It’s hot, absolutely too hot for cuddling, and Harry can feel exactly where the sheets (and his sleeping partner) are clinging to his body.

He rolls over and away with a loud groan. He doesn’t look at the door — he already knows who it is. His sleeping partner isn’t so lucky.

“S’happening?” he groans from Harry’s left.

Louis takes a step further into the room. He’s got two coffees in his hand, and his bag swung casually over his shoulder, which suggests he’s been to his first class already. His eyes are flashing.

Harry fights a smile.

“I _said_ ,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “ _who the fuck is this?_ ”

Right.

This is Harry’s part.

Trying to ignore his headache, Harry pushes himself up to his elbows. The sheets fall down a little bit, exposing lines all over his chest, sweaty indents from the sheets where he’d been laying on them.

“Louis!” He tries not to be too loud, if only to keep his headache from worsening. “This isn’t—” he has to stop for a second to clear his throat. Christ, his head is pounding. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Louis sets the coffee’s down on Harry’s desk.

“Are you fucking serious?” Harry’s pretty sure Louis’ whisper isn’t for his benefit, but he appreciates it regardless. “That’s what you’re going with? ‘ _T_ _his isn’t what it looks like’_?”

Some people say they can’t tell that Louis’ a drama major just by meeting him. Harry finds that pretty hard to believe.

He drags a hand over his face.

“Lou.”

“What?” And, oh, he’s going for loud now. At least it gives the performance a little variety. “You wanna throw out a few more clichés, see which one’s stick?”

The guy next to Harry sits up, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait, stop, stop, stop,” he says.

His voice is low, and his chest is quite hairy. Harry follows the line of it all the way down, drinking in the exposed skin and absolutely divine abs. They call it a happy trail for a reason. Harry can see exactly what would have caught drunk Harry’s eye the night before. “What is happening right now?”

Louis huffs, sickeningly theatrical.

Hands on his hips, he leans in. “What is _happening_ ,” and god, he never enunciates better than when he’s on the stage, “is that you very clearly fucked my boyfriend last night.”

The guy rears back, blinking quickly. He gapes at Louis for a moment, and then another, before he swings around to face Harry. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Harry fish mouths for a second, lost for words.

“ _God_ ,” Louis is _pacing_ now, “you are such an asshole Harry, how could you do this?”

Harry shakes his head, as painful as it is, and splutters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t — ”

The guy interrupts, turning back to Louis. “Listen, mate, I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says quickly, kind despite the fierce glare he’s trained on Harry. “It’s not your fault. It’s _his._ ”

That’s when the guy starts to scramble. He falls out of the bed and hastily snatches his clothes from the floor. Louis clicks his tongue and folds his arms across his chest, pointedly looking at the ceiling when the dude pulls on his pants. Once he’s half dressed — trousers on with the fly unbuttoned, shirt inside out and draped over his shoulders — he snatches his phone and wallet from Harry’s bedside table.

“I’m gonna go,” he says, apparently happy Louis has absolved him for his part in Harry’s infidelity. He zips up his fly. “I’m so sorry, again,” he says to Louis, before turning to Harry. “You’re a real fucking asshole, dude.”

Then he flees.

As soon as the dorm door shuts behind him, Louis deflates. His shoulder drop as he unfolds his hands, wandering casually over to the table to pick up the coffee he’d set there.

Then, relaxed as ever, he crosses the room again and drop onto the edge of Harry’s bed.

“Here,” he passes the coffee over.

Harry takes it and glares. “You couldn’t have come up with something that didn’t make me look like an absolute tool?”

Louis shrugs over his own coffee, giving him a very pointed once over. “I’m not a miracle worker, mate.” Harry takes another dour sip of his drink. In the pause, Louis’ flashes him a grin. “Get it? Because you’re already a tool?”

“I got it, thanks.”

Louis snickers. Harry fusses with his blanket for a little while, shuffling to get a little comfier while making sure not to spill his coffee.

Louis taps him on the knee. “So what was this one’s name?”

Harry settles back into his pillows, closing his eyes just for a moment.

“James.”

“And how was James?”

The night comes back in flashes, the way it always does when Harry’s had more than two glasses of pinot. He thinks about dancing with James in the club, crowding him in the toilet cubicle and biting on his ear when he’d asked him to come home, and can’t help but sigh. “Generous.”

When he opens his eyes again, Louis’ got his eyebrows high. “Well,” he says after a moment. “Lucky Harry.”

Harry sinks further into the blankets with a hum. “Mhmm,” he says. “Very lucky Harry.”

Louis flicks him on the nose.

“You’re disgusting.”

Harry ignores him. “Don’t hate me cause you ain’t me.” There’s a definitely possibility he’s still a little drunk.

“You did _not_ just fucking say that,” Louis almost sings, gleeful. “I’m texting Gemma.”

Harry groans. He doesn’t open his eyes though. It’s much nicer in the dark. “Why? Why do you always have to torment me?”

Louis shrugs. “It’s very fun?” and Harry groans. “Besides, you can’t be mean back, it’s barely ten and you’ve already cheated on me.”

That gets Harry to open his eyes.

He jumps back up on his elbows, fast enough that his head spins a little, and scowls. “I would never,” he says, stern. “We’re not really dating.”

His visions gone a little cloudy from the dizziness, but he thinks Louis may have gone a little pink. “You don’t have to tell me that,” he says. “Think of it as background work. I have to feel it.”

Harry takes another sip of his coffee now that he’s sitting back up. “You seemed perfectly good at it without the character study.”

Louis preens. “I was quite convincing, wasn’t I?”

Harry glowers.

“I’ve always kind of wanted to be a jilted lover, you know,” Louis muses. “Is that fucked up?”

Harry hums. “Just a tad, yeah.”

“Whatever,” Louis shrugs. “It’s the Jane Austen fan in me. Love the drama.”

Harry heaves a massive sigh, just so Louis can really understand how patient Harry is as a person. He sets his coffee down on his bedside table and flops back in bed.

“Don’t you make that noise, mister,” Louis huffs. “You’re lucky I’m such a good actor. How else would you get rid of your one-night stands?”

How else indeed.

◾

It started in second year, almost entirely by accident. Harry had brought a girl home on a Sunday night, on a weekend that Louis was visiting his family. He’d forgotten to give Louis a heads up, too caught up in his lovely evening, and so they’d been woken the next morning by a genuinely startled Louis at the door.

“Oh!” Louis had said. Then he’d just kind of stood there, equal parts surprised and awkward.

The girl had jumped up like Harry’s bed had suddenly caught fire.

“Oh, my gosh,” she’d said. “You have a boyfriend!?”

She’d shrieked it so loudly, so scandalised, that Harry could barely process it. By the time he had, she was out the door.

“Uh,” Louis had watched her race down the hall. “Sorry?”

From there, they’d been a little more strategic. It grew slowly and without any particular kind of guidance. The second time wasn’t quite as accidental but was certainly not a thought-out plan. It was only by the third try, when a guy from Harry’s dispute resolution class just _would not_ take the hint, that Harry texted Louis for help.

With a little prodding from Louis (‘I’m sorry, and _you_ are?’) the guy had backed off, and a plan had been born.

“Can’t believe I’m your Peter Kavinsky,” Louis had said.

“Oh, please. You wish.”

◾

After his Tuesday tutorial, Harry heads to the campus coffee shop. The coffee is shit but the pastries are good as hell, and always exactly what Harry’s craving after spending an hour going over contracts law.

There’s a new face behind the counter, which immediately catches Harry’s eye. He’s in here three or four times a week, so he ought to notice when something changes.

“Hi,” the stranger says warmly when Harry steps up to order. “What can I get for you?”

He’s got the standard apron on over his shoulders, which is really doing wonders for him. The grey t-shirt he’s wearing underneath is pulling over his biceps, and Harry’s gaze gets stuck, just for a moment. He has to clear his throat to bring himself back to the present.

“A croissant, please.”

Handsome guy raises an eyebrow.

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

That makes Harry do a double take. He glances around the cafe; there’s a little clock hung up in the far corner. He double checks — he hasn’t had to read analog in a while, thanks — but once he’s absolutely confident he turns back to the counter. “It sure is.”

“Do you always order breakfast food this late in the day?”

Harry blinks, immediately indignant. There’s a playful grin on the other man’s face though, which suggests he’s not being properly questioned. “Are you supposed to judge everyone’s order? Is that good for business?”

The guy flashes him a grin. “Only when someone’s eating breakfast food at the exact wrong time of the day.”

Harry leans forward, his hip resting against the counter. “I’ll have you know,” he peers at the guy’s name tag, “ _Terry,_ that croissants are an all-day food.”

Terry shakes his head. “They’re definitely not.” He sounds stern, but the grin on his face doesn’t do him any favours.

“Oh yeah?” Harry pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “You want me to google it? I will.”

Terry shakes his head. “You’ve probably edited the Wikipedia article, can’t be trusted.”

Harry shoves his phone away. “This is supposed to be a safe space you know.”

Terry stops fighting the grin. He’s got a lovely smile, and very white teeth. “It’s still a safe space, you can have your croissant. I’m just saying you might want to rethink your life choices, that’s all.”

“I’m feeling very judged here.”

Terry lifts up a pair of plastic tongs and dips them into a basket of muffins on the bench top. “We can’t have that,” he says. “Why don’t you take a muffin? On the house.”

“You’re not going to distract me from my croissant, I hope you know.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Just hoping to open your eyes a little.”

He puts the free muffin in a paper bag for Harry, then fetches the croissant. He smiles the entire time, and it’s so infectious that Harry smiles right along with him. He pays and finds a table, even though he’d originally been planning on heading straight back to his dorm. He doesn’t want to be that guy — the one who hangs out at someone’s work and harasses them — so he keeps to himself, picking at his croissant. He can’t quite help but glance at Terry every couple of minutes. Terry doesn’t seem to mind.

Harry pulls his laptop out and studies for a little while, munching happily on his afternoon croissant. About forty minutes after he sat down, Terry sits down opposite him.

“How’s your breakfast?”

Harry snorts. “As good as always, thanks.”

It’s easy to start chatting. Terry is new in town, just transferred from another Uni out of state, with a fresh new job at the cafe. He doesn’t know many people, except for his housemates who he shares a house with off campus. He likes dogs, and croissants in the morning hours, and video games.

“Do you like Red Dead?” Harry has to ask.

Terry makes a sad noise. “Haven’t had the chance to play it yet.”

Harry knows his eyes light up. He can feel it.

“Really? Do you want to?”

“Uh, of course. It looks amazing.”

Harry grins. “I’ve got it. I live on campus, just up on B-block, if you wanted to go try it out?”

It’s possible he’s coming on a little strong. Harry does that, he’s been told enough times, but he only even catches himself after he’s done it. It doesn’t bother him too much — he’s never been one to waste time fussing about silly social rules — and he won’t be offended if Terry says no.

It’s not an issue.

“That sounds sick, yeah.”

Harry texts Louis while Terry wraps up out the back. His shift finished when he came to sit with Harry, so he doesn’t have to wait long.

 _bringing someone home_. _I think I like this one, no rescue required_ [16:47]

Louis replies quickly.

 _I’m studying is that okay?_ [16:52]

 _yeah, no worries x_ [16:53]

“It’s not too far,” Harry tells

Terry, tucking his phone in his pocket when Terry gets back to the table. “Just round the corner.”

Terry glances out the cafe window, as if he might see it from there. “Must be so good to live this close. Takes me like forty minutes to get to class every day.”

They chat as they walk, mostly about living on campus and where Terry lives. It’s not long enough a walk to get into anything deeper than that. As they get closer, anticipation curls in Harry’s gut. Terry is smart and cute and clearly just as into Harry. It’s been a while since he’s been interested in seeing someone again, and there’s something exciting about it that gets more and more pronounced the closer they get to his front door.

“Oh, this is cool,” Terry says, as they get to the building. “You live here?”

“Sure do,” Harry tries not to preen. Their building is one of the better res blocks on campus, with grey brick walls and ivy crawling up the walls. Louis’ always called it their castle, and there’s no question why. “I’m on the third floor.”

He swipes his pass to get inside and then leads Terry through the halls. “Sorry, we don’t have a lift. This place is pretty tall.”

Terry laughs. “I can handle some stairs,” he says. “I’m pretty strong.”

Harry thinks of the tight t-shirt Terry’s wearing, the way it’s a little too small around his arms. It’s a distracting thought, and keeps Harry preoccupied as they walk up the stairs. It’s only when he’s turning the handle of their front door that he realises he probably should have mentioned Louis would be home.

“Oh,” he says, swinging the door open but looking over his shoulder to Terry. “I should have said—”

“Hey Haz,” Louis says. He’s sitting cross legged on their little couch, a textbook open on one knee and his notebook balanced on the other. He smiles up at them. “Hey Hazza’s friend.”

Terry smiles and waves.

“Sorry,” Harry says, “this is Lou, my roommate. You don’t mind if he studies while we play, right?”

Terry shakes his head. “Nah, of course not. Nice to meet you, mate.”

“You too,” Louis grins. “Gonna play some Mario Kart?”

Harry sighs and turns to Terry. “Please excuse him,” he says. “Louis’ knowledge of video games is sorely lacking.”

Louis sputters. “Mario Kart is a video game!”

“Yes, but it’s not the _only_ video game.”

They’ve had this argument about a thousand times.

“It’s the only good one, then.”

Harry rolls his eyes, stepping further into the room to give Terry some space before he shuts the door behind them. He knows Louis’ only trying to wind him up — when Liam and Niall are over Louis’ a bloody expert at the PS4.

“Stop showing off in front of my guest,” he says, motioning to the couch so that Terry can take a seat. It’s a tiny little two-seater, with no hope of holding the three of them, so Harry sets himself up on the floor. “Please ignore him, Terry, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“That’s quite rude, Harold,” Louis huffs. He shifts a little bit further up the couch though, smiling and making sure that Terry has enough room.

“It’s what you deserve.” Harry turns to Terry then, holding up the controller. “You wanna play first?”

“Nah, you go,” Terry shakes his head. “I haven’t played in ages. Better see how it’s done.”

Louis tuts, nice and quietly, “Harry’s definitely not gonna be able to help with that.”

Harry smacks him in the knee. “That’s enough of you, thanks.”

Terry laughs, just a little on the quiet side, but Harry doesn’t worry. It’s always a bit weird the first time at someone’s place, but once they’ve played a little it should be fine. As they get into the game, Terry leans forward so they can chat about Harry’s progress as he goes. Louis settles back into studying quietly, occasionally flipping a page in his textbook, but otherwise ignoring them.

Harry plays for half an hour before they swap the controller over and Terry has a go. The cord for the controller doesn’t quite reach the couch.

“Here, we can swap,” Harry says, getting to his feet. Terry takes his spot on the ground and Harry settles in at Louis’ side. Once Terry’s unpaused the game, Harry reaches over and nudges the book on Louis’ lap. “How’s studying?”

“S’good,” Louis says. “I’ve only got a few more chapters to go.”

“Wicked. We could order ubereats after?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Louis’ got his non-writing hand pulled all the way back into his sweater arm, and it’s only when he flicks the next page of his textbook over that Harry realises, he _recognises_ the sweater.

“Hey!” he tugs at Louis’ sleeve.

“I’ve been looking for this!”

Louis huffs. “I borrowed it like three weeks ago.”

“Uh, was I consulted?”

Louis shoots him a serene smile.

“Nope.” He pops  the ‘P’, the smug bastard,

“You can’t just take my stuff, Louis,” Harry tuts.

Louis shrugs. “Apparently I can.”

“Oh, I died!” Terry says, and Harry looks back to the screen. The blood of Terry’s little cowboy is splattered across the screen. “Fuck, what do I do now?”

“S’all good,” Harry leans forward and helps him with the controller, fiddling with the settings until they’re back at the save point. “Go from there.”

Terry starts again.

Harry gives Louis a pointed look. “Does your roommate steal your clothes, Terry?”

He’s not looking at Terry, but he can hear a soft laugh. “Nope, he really doesn’t.”

“See?” Harry looks to Louis again. “It’s just not right!”

“Possession is nine-tenths the law.”

That has Harry spluttering some more. He’s the law student here. “You don’t even know what that means!”

“Sure I do. Means finders keepers.”

Harry pauses.

That’s actually quite close.

He’s saved having to come up with a rebuttal to that when Terry asks, “Can I pat this dog?”

Harry looks back to the screen, excited. “Fuck yeah you can.”

He slides down onto the floor next to Terry so he can show him how to get the cowboy on screen to pat the dog he’s found. He stays there for a while longer, talking Terry through the game before Terry offers the controller back to him.

It goes like that, passing the controller back and forth and just casually chatting about the game. Louis stays mostly quiet in the background, only moving when the sun sets, and he needs to turn on a light so he can keep reading.

When he comes back from turning on the light, he’s got his glasses on. They’re his old ones, with the thick rims, that Harry hasn’t seen him wear in months.

“Did your other glasses break?”

Louis shakes his head, climbing behind them to get back on the couch. “Nah, just lost them. Can’t be arsed to look for them right now.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “We could help you look?”

Louis smiles, soft. “Don’t worry about it. They’re around here somewhere.” He peers out the window. “We should order food soon though.”

On cue, Harry’s stomach rumbles a little bit.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “What do we feel like?”

“Pizza?” Louis suggests.

“Ooh, Italian yes,” Harry nods. He looks excitedly to Terry, pulling his phone out of his pocket and getting the ubereats app up. “There’s this _amazing_ place around the corner, it’s called _Joey’s,_ they do such good Italian.”

“I think Harry’s heart is literally made of their meatballs,” Louis adds in. “He’s obsessed.”

“Oh, my god,” Harry almost groans.

He swipes through the menu on his phone, trying to find a good picture. “The meatballs, you _have_ to try them.”

“Hey, listen Harry, this has been great.” Harry startles and turns to look at Terry, who has got to his feet. “Thanks so much for having me, but I might head off.”

Harry stares. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, sorry. Terry scratches a hand across the back of his neck, smiling a little ruefully. “Long commute home, you know?”

Harry puts his phone down. “Uh, yeah, sure. No worries.” He gets to his feet too, shooting Louis a quick confused look. Louis looks equally surprised. “I’m glad you came though; I had a good time.”

“Me too,” Terry claps a hand on Harry’s arm. “Thanks for having me.”

“Anytime.”

“Louis,” Terry turns to smile at him, apparently oblivious to their obvious bewilderment (or outrightly ignoring it.) “Good to meet you, mate.”

Louis smiles, reaches up to shake Terry’s hand. “You too, mate.”

“See you later, Harry.”  Terry shows himself out.

There’s a pause.

Louis clears his throat. “Did I fuck that up for you?”

Harry’s just sort of blinking at the back of his dorm door. “No,” he says, but it comes out more like ‘ _no?’_ “I don’t know?”

When Harry sits back on the couch, he leans unconsciously into Louis. Louis opens up for him immediately, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders and rubbing at his shoulder. He’s got magic hands, Louis does.

They’re quiet for a little while longer.

“So,” Louis says, when it becomes clear that the silence is offering them no answers. “ _J_ _oey’s?_ ”

◾

Something strange hangs in the air in the days after Terry’s visit. Harry sees him a few times, waving at him in the cafe as he passes by. He’s seemed happy as ever to wave right back, and still lovely and chatty when Harry orders his food, but the flirting from their first conversation seems to have vanished. That’s not what’s strange, either; if Terry’s not interested that’s totally fine, and Harry would never hold that against him.

It’s actually him and Louis that are stranger than normal.

It’s nothing that Harry can put his finger on, not specifically. It’s more of a mood, a vibe in their tiny little dorm room, that feels altogether unfamiliar. He can’t say that Louis seems uncomfortable, that’s not quite it, but he’s certainly not as comfortable as he used to be. It’s almost like he’s hovering, a bee lingering near a flower but not quite ready to land — only Harry is the flower, and Louis’ never been strange like this around him.

Harry has no clue what’s changed, so there’s not much he can do to ask Louis about it. If Louis wanted to tell him, he would have already.

So he just tries to keep everything as normal as possible.

“Do you wanna do anything today?” he asks, Saturday morning when Louis’ rolled out of his bed.

Louis walks over to the fridge, pulling out some milk for his cereal. “Are you gonna go to your lecture?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah, I can download it and listen later.”

They both know that’s absolutely never going to happen. Harry’s pretty good at improvising his way through the tutes anyway.

“Let’s go to the park,” Harry says.

Louis pauses to think about it, and that twinges something in Harry’s chest. Louis hasn’t stopped to think about hanging out with Harry like this before. Thankfully, he doesn’t take too long.

“Yeah, alright.”

They go to the park. Harry lays out a picnic blanket that his sister got him for Christmas, and Louis brings his music speakers. It’s sunny outside, probably one of the last sunny days they’re gonna be before winter properly arrives, so it’s easy for them both to stretch out on the mat and snooze for a little while.

Terry’s coffee shop is on one edge of the park, and at some point, while Harry sleeps, Louis gets up and grabs them some sandwiches. He nudges Harry lightly with his shoe when he returns, hands full.

Harry sits up. “I should be studying.”

“Don’t ruin our morning with that kind of talk, please.”

“It’s true!” Harry’s got an exam in three weeks, worth sixty-percent of his grade. “I’ll have to do winter term if I fail.”

Louis’ still standing up. He’s not so laid down with sandwiches now, but he’s still checking out where he’s gonna sit. It’s like he’s a cat who’s got to do a couple of circles to make sure everything’s set before finally settling. He’s done it as long as Harry’s known him, and every time Harry gets a little overwhelmed at the site of it.

Louis nods a little, finally satisfied, and drops down next to Harry. “You’re the one who wanted to go to the park.”

Harry flounders. “Well, yeah.”

“So if you have to do winter term, it’s all your own fault.”

Harry doesn’t want to tell Louis that he’s skipping studying so that they can spend time together, and maybe escape this strange cloud of something that’s engulfed them. Louis leans back on the picnic rug, nice and close, and it feels worth it.

“But,” Louis goes on. “If _I_ fail and have to do winter term, I’m holding you responsible.”

Harry blinks. “How’s that work?”

Louis shrugs. “You made me come to the park.”

“It’s not like I forced you! I don’t see a leash round your throat!”

There’s a pause. Harry flushes pink.

He’s pretty sure Louis does too, but Louis doesn’t let the silence last long enough for Harry to investigate. He ducks his head. “You have to be responsible for your own choices, Harold.”

Harry huffs. “I’m very responsible.”

“Sure, you are.”

Pouting, Harry distracts himself with his sandwich. Louis’ got him avocado and cheese, his favourite.

“So, uh,” Louis clears his throat, then nods his head back in the direction of the cafe. “Ran into Terry in there.”

Harry munches on his sandwich for a moment, so he makes his best interested noise. Once he’s swallowed, he says, “oh, cool.”

“Yeah.”

Harry takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. There’s got to be a way to make fun of Louis for paying _actual money_ for avocado without repeating any of the numerous jokes that have come before this. Louis always gets so angry about avocados, which is honestly the funniest thing in the universe, so Harry takes great pride in working him up about it.

He’s about to ask ‘ _so, where did your avo-cash-go?’_ when Louis starts talking and steals the moment.

“I’m gonna study in the library tomorrow if you want to invite him over again tomorrow.”

Harry, lingering on his absolute _banger_ of a joke, startles. “What?”

Louis frowns and looks down at his knees. “Like, if you want to hang out with him again. I don’t wanna get in the way.”

“You weren’t in the way.” Now Harry’s frowning a bit, too. “Did he _say_ something to you?” For a second Harry is flooded with hot anger. He spins a little so that he can see the cafe, trying to see in and spot Terry even from this distance. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t _say_ anything.”

The ‘say’ is a little too pointed for Harry’s liking.

“Did he _do_ something?”

“No. Harold, you’re being silly.”

“Don’t call me Harold.”

Louis talks right over him, raising his voice a little. “I’m just saying, you know...” he trails off, losing his strong start, “if you wanted to ask him over again, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Harry watches him carefully. “And he didn’t say anything to you?”

“No!”

Louis seems to be edging quite close to real frustration, so Harry holds up his hands, placating. “Alright, just checking.” He shuffles over and leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. It’s quite stiff under his head. “Thank you. I’ll see if he’s free.”

Louis relaxes a little, but not all the way. It’s about the same as the rest of the week has been, tense but not quite, and Harry doesn’t like it in line of Louis’ body any more than he likes it in the air between them.

Whatever it is, he’ll fix it.

He stays close at Louis’ side for the rest of the afternoon. They chat a little bit about their classes, but for most of the time they just lay in the sun. Harry starts to hum his favourite songs and Louis perks up as he begins to guess them. It’s only when some clouds come over, bringing with them a sudden chill, that they decide they should maybe head home.

“I can meet you there,” Harry says when they’re on their feet. “I’ll just duck in and talk to Terry.”

“Yeah, go for it. See you in a bit.”

Harry jogs over to the cafe. There’re a few people left, dotted around the cafe, but it’s quite quiet and they’re clearly getting ready to close. Terry is behind the counter now, standing with another of the servers with a broom in his hand.

“Harry!” He smiles when he meets Harry’s eye across the counter. “Back for another croissant?”

“Nah, had a sandwich for lunch. My compliments to the chef.”

Terry shoots him a knowing look. “Right. The avocado and cheese.”

Harry grins. “Louis mentioned?”

“Oh, he had some thoughts to share about avocado, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah, that’s Louis.”

Terry leans on the broom in his hands. “So, what can I get you if not a croissant?”

Harry glances at Terry’s co-worker. He thinks her name is Sophie, from memory, but he can’t quite remember. She’s minding her own business, cleaning up the back bench, and she doesn’t seem too interested in their conversation.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to hang out again, maybe tomorrow?” Harry asks. “If you’re not working, of course. Louis’ gonna be at the library so — ”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Terry interrupts him. “I’m working tomorrow.”

It was a little bit late notice, so Harry’s not too surprised. “Yeah, thought you might be.” Harry shoots him a grin. “Maybe another day?”

Harry doesn’t want to sound too confident, because no one ever is when they’re asking someone out, but he doesn’t feel too worried. He and Terry had a good time on Tuesday, and Terry seemed to enjoy his company. But Terry doesn’t answer straight away, and when Harry takes a more careful look at his expression his confidence begins to wane.

Terry sets the broom to the side.

“Do you wanna…” he glances at his co-worker. “Uh, let’s go over here.”

He motions across the cafe and Harry follows him easily. They sit down at an empty table, quite a way away from any other customers, and Terry shoots him an odd little smile.

It’s honestly more of a grimace than anything.

This isn’t going to go well, Harry realises.

“Look, Harry,” Terry begins, his hands clasped on the table between them. “I like you and I had a really good time on Tuesday. It’s just — I’m so new to town, I don’t know many people, and I’m just not super keen to get in the middle of something?”

Harry blinks.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “In the middle of what?”

Terry stares. “You and Louis.”

It takes a moment to register, probably because it’s the last thing Harry was expecting to hear. “Me and Louis?” There’s another beat between them, where neither of them moves. It gives Harry’s brain a little more time to process, to come up with more questions. “How could you get in the middle of me and Louis?”

Terry shoots him a very funny look, his eyebrows high. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s the point.”

Harry really doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand,” he tells Terry.

Terry sighs. “I don’t know your business, right? So, like, your life is your life. But you and Louis, you don’t act like just roommates. I got that in like thirty seconds of seeing you together. And I think you’re great, I do, but I’m not really interested in people who are already, you know, in something.”

“But I’m not in anything?” Harry protests. He’s _certainly_ not in Louis.

Terry watches him for a moment longer, then pushes himself to his feet. “Well, I guess I misread it then.” He shoots Harry a soft smile. “I’ve got to get back to work, but thanks for the offer. Sorry I can’t take you up on it.”

Harry feels a little dazed. “It’s fine.”

Terry leaves him there. Harry doesn’t linger for too long, because he’s just been turned down in a fairly quiet cafe and he’s eighty-percent sure everyone heard their conversation. He doesn’t want to intrude on Terry’s space, either.

He looks at his feet as he walks back to his dorm, lost in his thoughts.

Maybe Terry met one of the people that thought Louis was his boyfriend, and had drawn his own conclusions from there? But then, wouldn’t he say that he knew they were in a relationship if that’s what he’d heard? Why would he just say they’re ‘in something’?

He’s still caught up in his own head when he walks through the front door.

“Haz? Everything alright?”

Louis’ in the kitchen, near a bowl of two-minute-noodles. He’s put on Harry’s sweater again, and he’s got the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Even with his thoughts running him in circles, Harry still feels impossibly fond at the sight of him.

He forces himself to relax. “Yeah, m’fine.”

“How’d it go with Terry?”

Harry swallows. “Uh, yeah, no. He said no.”

Louis frowns, indignant. “He’s a bloody idiot then, isn’t he?”

It’s such an instinctive, defensive response that Harry can’t help but laugh. He ambles into the kitchen and let’s Louis wrap him up in the hug, not a moment of hesitation. He sinks into Louis’ embrace, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and holding him close.

“You’re the best,” he hums.

“Damn right,” Louis says. “And fuck Terry, he’s clearly a moron.”

There’s a problem, though. With Louis wrapped around him, soft in Harry’s sweater and supportive in the most Louis way possible, Harry thinks that maybe Terry’s not a moron at all.

◾

Of course, now that Harry’s knows he’s got, well, _something_ with Louis, he has absolutely no idea how to deal with it. It’s honestly the least sure Harry’s felt about himself in a long time, which is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

The one thing he does know for certain, though, is that he wants to do something.

On Sunday night he asks Louis to dinner.

“Yeah, sure,” Louis replies without pause. “Do you want to just order in though? I don’t wanna shower.”

The easy yes is lovely, but it’s so easy that Harry’s sure Louis didn’t understand what Harry was asking. He tries again over the next few days, all his favourite tactics like touching Louis on his arms and making dirty jokes where he can. Again, they slide of Louis’ like the water off a duck’s back.

It is quite telling, of course, that Louis would be so familiar with Harry’s best moves. It looks like Harry’s been using them on Louis this entire time, without realising.

After two weeks of the same, there’s really only one option left.

He has to be direct.

On Friday night, with his heart thundering, Harry pulls his phone out.

 _come be my boyfriend_   [20:13]

Oh, boy, does that message send his body into a panic. It’s a little thrilling, but mostly terrifying, and Harry has to wonder why anyone does drugs when you can feel this overwhelmed for free.

 _sure, be there in a sec_ [20:15]

It’s a proper rush, this kind of nervousness, and it makes his head spin a little. Suddenly he’s worried about his room, a room which Louis has seen a thousand goddamn times, but might be too dirty this time? He hastily checks to see if he’s left any of his pants on the ground, or if he’s got any dirty tissues strewn about.

He doesn’t, which is good, but he’s immediately presented with another problem. Now that he’s up, he doesn’t know how to sit back down. Does he sit on the bed? Is that too awkward, or formal? Does he lie in the bed? Or on the bed? But would that be too presumptuous?

Louis opens his door right in the middle of this crisis.

Harry panics and sits down right where he is, on the floor, square in the middle of the room.

Louis face scrunches all the way up.

“Y’right there?” He glances around the room. “There’s no one here.”

Harry swallows, craning his neck to look up at Louis from where he’s sat on the ground. His face is warming at a considerable speed. “Nope.”

“You said you wanted me to come be your boyfriend.”

Harry swallows. He should probably stand up. “Yup.”

Louis puts his hands on his hips, frowning down at Harry. “What’s going on? Are you having me on?”

There is a very real chance Harry’s fucking this up right now, which is honestly the opposite of what he wants.

“No, I’m not, sorry.” He hastily pushes himself to his feet, wobbling a little bit on his feet when he does. “I’m kind of fucking this up.”

Louis’ gaze has turned wary, and he folds his arms across his chest. It’s like he’s bracing himself. “Fucking what up?”

Harry swallows. “Terry told me we had something.”

He’s close enough to see Louis’ face twitch, with something that looks very close to irritation. “Okay?” he says. “What’s that got to do with me? Do you need me to clear off again?”

“What?” That was not what Harry was expecting.

Louis rolls his eyes, looking around the room. “For you and Terry, you know.” He shrugs, the movement sharp. “So you can hang out.”

Harry…

Harry’s missed something.

“Why do you want me to hang out with Terry?”

Louis juts his chin out, defensive.

“You said he said you had something!”

Harry blinks a few times. His nerves are making it quite difficult to think, and a conversation in puzzles with Louis really isn’t helping. “What? No. _We_ have something.”

Louis’ voice goes up an octave.

“That’s what I’m bloody saying!” He always rushes his words when he’s pissed off. Harry does find it a little endearing. “What the fuck, Harry!”

Harry shakes his head. When Louis gets loud and shouty, he can’t quite help but go along with him. “Like you me, we,” he half yells. “ _We_ have something.”

There’s a pause, left just long enough for Harry’s stomach to fall out his bottom. He hadn’t meant to say it quite like that.

Louis stares at him, his annoyance softened by what was clearly quite a shock.

“We do?”

Harry swallows, looks around the room for a distraction but can’t help but come back to Louis’ eyes. “Well. Yeah.”

He can literally see the questions flying through Louis’ head, his jaw clenching as he thinks. “Terry said this?”

Harry nods.

“And you. You agree?”

Panic sings through Harry’s bloodstream. He’s gonna bite all the way through his bottom lip if he’s not careful. Still, now isn’t the time to be a coward.

He nods again. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

Louis sits on Harry’s bed.

Harry’s not sure if this a good sign. He stays standing, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for Louis to say something.

He does, after a moment.

“And you… you decided to text me?” Louis pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. It opens onto Harry’s text.

“Uh,” Harry runs a hand through his head. “Yeah.” That doesn’t feel like a good enough answer, so he follows up. “I tried flirting a little but turns out we already did a lot of that, so I think you didn’t notice.”

Louis shakes his head a little. “I didn’t.”

He looks so unsure that Harry wants to wrap him up in a hug. It’s probably not the best move, considering he’s the cause for that concern, so he settles for sitting on the bed next to him. “Are you alright?”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I’ve been into you for ages.”

And, oh. Harry wasn’t expecting that. “You have?”  

Louis nods. He’s staring at the wall. “Yup.”

Harry ponders that for a moment. “You didn’t want to tell me?”

“You didn’t seem interested.”

It’s fair, Harry thinks. He didn’t know he was interested, after all, so it’s not surprising at all that Louis didn’t pick it up. He’s not sure what Louis wants to hear next, if he wants to hear anything at all, so he just stays quiet. He’s had a few weeks to come to terms with how bloody interested he is in Louis. Louis deserves a few minutes to catch up.

They sit there quietly, companionably, for a few minutes.

Then, “I can’t believe you _ordered_ me to be your boyfriend.”

Harry huffs. “I didn’t _order_ you.”

Louis holds his phone up. “ _Come be my boyfriend,_ ” he reads aloud.

There’s not much wiggle room there. “Okay,” Harry allows. “Maybe I did.” He watches Louis carefully, doing his best to be gentle. There’s a small smile on his face, though, which is encouraging. It’s difficult to feel wholly uncomfortable when it’s Louis he’s talking to. Regardless of anything else, he’s still Harry’s best friend. “I can rephrase, if you like?”

Louis’ face is getting softer and softer by the minute. “Yeah?” he sounds playful, and Harry’s heart races. He knows this smile, what this smile means. “Go ahead.”

Harry lifts his hand, and only takes a moment to trace Louis’ jaw before he ducks down to kiss him. Louis kisses him back immediately, leaning up and into him, both his hands coming up to settle on Harry’s neck. It’s so effortless that the realisation it’s their first kiss is almost a surprise. It feels like they ought to have been doing this their entire lives.

When they pull apart, Louis is smiling more broadly than ever.

“I’m waiting?”

Harry laughs, probably too loud for the small space between them. “Will you be my boyfriend?” he asks. “For real, this time?”

Louis looks wicked. “Your Peter Kavinsky, you mean?”

Harry groans, but Louis swallows it up in another kiss and Harry doesn’t have it in him to complain.

◾

**Author's Note:**

> so laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame but i loved writing it and i'm gonna love reading all your comments even more! I'll be replying to all x
> 
> (please, please, please, please, please) reblog the fic post [here](https://bottomlinsons.tumblr.com/post/184411679617) x


End file.
